


Shiver Me Timbers

by breeisonfire



Series: TAG prompt fics [1]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Cuddling, Gen, Hypothermia, Tumblr Prompt, do you know how long it took to title this stupid thing what the hELL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 19:25:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8590663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breeisonfire/pseuds/breeisonfire
Summary: "a fic where gordon falls through icy water and gets hypothermia and e v e r y brother needs to cuddle him for warmth. All of them. even John."





	

**Author's Note:**

> thunderforsty on tumblr made a wish list and on it was this: "a fic where gordon falls through icy water and gets hypothermia and e v e r y brother needs to cuddle him for warmth. All of them. even John. "
> 
> So. Tada.
> 
> [Tumblr](http://drdone.tumblr.com) if you wanna prompt me.

There was something poetic about icy waters in the sea. The ocean is a cold mistress who stops for no one. Hers is a harsh love, a ride that you either survived or didn't and whichever way it went left you feeling miserable and freezing and sometimes snuck up on you because you're trying to rescue a drunk _idiot_ who thought ‘walking on thin ice’ was only a metaphorical saying and only didn't fall through by sheer dumb luck.

….Whatever, the point was Gordon was fucking _cold_.

It's not the first time this has happened. Or the second. It is, however, the first time it's happened on a rescue, and it is most definitely _not_ his fault. _He's_ not the idiot who tried to make a panicked run for it and cracked the ice. He's just the idiot that fell through.

The shock is always the part that gets him. Gordon has a deep respect for water. It's easy to get cocky and forget how powerful the ocean truly is and Gordon is intent on never going down that path. The ocean was millions of years old and was not merciful. The sooner you understood that, the better you would fare.

The cold make him freeze up, which is both a horrible pun and the worst possible thing he could do. He knows that the first thing you’re supposed to do is get as much of your body out of the water, he’s done this before, he’s been on the other side of this, but holy _hell_ it is cold. He at least keeps from inhaling water.

Later, Alan tells him that he’d managed to pull the upper half of his body out and Alan helped him the rest of the way, but Gordon doesn’t remember that. To be honest, he doesn’t remember anything past first hitting the water. It’s just a blur of lights and sounds, none that he can actually focus on.

The first thing he can actually understand is the sound of Thunderbird 2’s VTOL engines. He doesn’t actually recognize it immediately, as out of as he is. Everything seems distant and his body feels sluggish when he goes to raise his head.

Hands push him back down and he hears, “No, Gordon, don't get up. It's okay, you're in Thunderbird 2, Virgil’s flying us home.”

It takes Gordon a long moment to process that and even longer for him to realize that his eyes are open and he's staring at something blurry. It's blue and red and it takes him way too long to put the pieces together. “Alan.”

“Yep,” the blur that is Alan moves closer. “You actually with me this time?”

“I don't know,” Gordon says, trying to lift his head again.

“Nope,” Alan says, pushing him back down. “You're not supposed to get up. Doctor's orders. Well, Virgil’s orders.”

Gordon groans. “What happened?”

“You fell through ice,” Alan says. “You’ve got hypothermia.”

“Yay,” Gordon wonders why Thunderbird 2 is swaying so much. Virgil is usually a much better pilot than this. Or is he swaying? Gordon’s never gotten seasick, but there’s a first time for everything.

Alan doesn’t seem put off by the fact that Gordon’s puked on his shoes, which Gordon would be impressed by if he actually had the energy to care. He slumps back against the bed as Alan moves to clean off his shoes. Alan’s back relatively quickly and once again pushes him back to lay down on the bed.

Then, things go from bad to worse.

Gordon hates being cold. More accurately, he hates shivering. And boy howdy is he shivering. Violently and uncontrollably.

On one hand he knows it's good. It's his body's natural way of trying to warm himself up and the fact that he hadn't been shivering was bad. But holy _hell_ he wants it to stop. He wants to curl up on his side and not move for the next few days. Possibly weeks.

The blanket he's under isn't enough. He tries to pull it up further, up and over his head, but Alan again catches his hands and gently pulls the blanket back where it was. Gordon tries to protest, only managing a whine.

“Hang on,” Alan says, and then Gordon feels a weight on the medical bed with him. He cracks an eye open just as Alan tucks himself into Gordon’s side and _whoa_ , Alan's warm. Gordon could cry.

“Better?” Alan asks. Gordon tries to answer, but he's starting drift off. He's still shivering and the world still feels like it's spinning around him, but he's got his little brother next to him trying to warm him up and he's probably going to be poked and asked a lot of questions when they get back to island, he might as well sleep now.

He doesn't know how much time passes, but soon he hears Virgil’s voice, quietly asking, “Everything okay back here?”

“He's warmer,” Alan's voice is just as quiet. “Still shivering, though. He fell asleep an hour ago, but his breathing is normal and his pulse is steadier.”

“That's good,” Virgil says. “Let's get him inside so Brains can take a look at him.”

“F-A-B,” Alan says and the heat moves away from Gordon. Before he can even react to that - everything is _still_ too slow - he's being lifted. The world spins in a way he associates with riding in Thunderbird 3 and he groans.

“Sorry, Gordon,” Virgil says. “It's just for a little bit.”

He feels Virgil adjust his grip and then they're moving. Gordon is suffering. This is his own personal hell. He's cold and shivering and nauseous and he just wants to go back to sleep.

Virgil’s like a furnace, though, and eventually his stomach settles, even if his head is still convinced he's going to fly off into space. He sinks into a weird kind of stupor, instinctively curling into Virgil.

He's only vaguely aware of being put down, of Brains asking him a bunch of questions and mumbling incoherent answers in response. At some point, he hears Grandma Tracy and Scott asking Brains questions his mind can't process. He also thinks he hears Lady Penelope, too, but by then he's too out of it to actually tell if anything is real.

The IV going into his arm shocks him awake, though. He hates needles. He hates the feeling of an IV in his arm. There's too many bad memories there, he can't handle it and he's too disoriented to understand what's actually happening.

He swings. He doesn't have great control of his body right then, but he doesn't need it, he just needs to get away. He's not doing this again. He's not doing it.

A hand grabs his and grips it, just enough to be reassuring. Another grabs his other arm, and gently pushes it back down onto the mattress. Someone's talking to him in a low, calm voice but Gordon's too freaked out to understand.

It takes him a long time to come back to himself. When he does, he’s exhausted and _still_ shivering, but he’s wrapped securely in a blanket and leaning against somebody who is _definitely_ hugging him a little too tightly. He opens one eye and is not at all surprised to see it’s Scott, staring at a monitor somewhere above Gordon’s head, not blinking at all.

Gordon closes his eye again and tries to say, “You’re squeezing me too hard.”

He’s annoyed when all that comes out is unintelligible noises. Scott looks down and gives Gordon That _Smile_ , the one that tells Gordon he scared the hell out of Scott and caused a few more grays. So. That’s cool.

“Hey,” Scott says, and oh, _God_ , it’s That Voice, too. This must have been really bad.

“How are you feeling?” Scott asks.

Since ‘Partially dead’ is obviously the wrong answer despite being accurate, Gordon tries to shrug. It does not work, but Scott seems to get the memo. Scott’s good like that.

“Sorry, kid,” he says. “You’re probably gonna feel like that for a while. You’re gonna be okay, though.”

Gordon wants to say something like, “Of course I am, you idiots wouldn’t let me _not_ be okay,” but only manages a vaguely human noise. The last thing he hears before he falls asleep is Scott telling him he’ll keep watch, like _that_ was something he had to actually tell Gordon.

* * *

 

The brother he is leaning against is definitely not the one he fell asleep on. This brother is not usually on earth and Gordon cannot for the life of him figure out why he's currently leaning against John.

Not that he's complaining. John's warm. Gordon's starting to think he's never going to be warm again. Ever. He's never doing another ice rescue, he doesn't care. Nope. International Rescue is officially out of the ice business.

He feels John shift. “Hey, Grandma. What's going on?”

“Just thought I'd check on the patient. How's he doing?”

“His temperature is almost normal. He'll probably be fine by morning. Happy birthday, by the way.”

 _Oh, shit_. That's why John's on Earth. Grandma Tracy’s birthday. Gordon is the _worst_ , he forgot and then he had to go and get _hypothermia_ and why do things always happen this way?

“Thanks, kid,” he hears Grandma say.

“Not one of the better ones, I'm guessing?” John says, and Gordon feels a hand run through his hair. It's nice. Soothing.

“He's alive,” Grandma says. “That's what's important.”

Gordon feels more than hears John sigh. “Yeah. Good point. Virgil said it was really touch-and-go for a while. His pulse slowed and they had a hard time finding it.”

“I heard,” Grandma says.

“Brains doesn't think there will be any complications,” John continues. Gordon wonders if he's trying to reassure Grandma or convince himself. “Did Scott actually go to bed?”

“No,” Grandma sighs. “He's sitting in the living room with Kayo. They're ready to take him to the hospital if he needs it.”

John shifts again. “I guess I don't really blame them. Though I don't think he's going to need it.”

“Neither do I,” Grandma says and Gordon feels the bed dip like she’s sat down, too. “But it makes them feel better.”

John sighs. His hand is still running through Gordon’s hair. Gordon always forgets that while John is usually in space, he’s every inch the big brother Scott is, just in a different way. Scott’s all about the moment, ready to go and beating himself up any time something goes wrong that he thinks there’s even the chance he could have prevented. John’s big picture; he knows all the ways things could go wrong and he doesn’t let himself think about them. He wouldn’t be able to do his job if he did. So he plans things out ahead so he _can_ prevent those things from going wrong.

Gordon likes to pretend he understands the way they think, but then he’s only got one little brother. Alan’s a handful, but somehow he thinks have three or four younger brothers is much different.

“You should get some sleep,” Grandma tells John.

“I can sleep here,” John says. “Besides, I’m comfortable. And I don’t want to wake him.”

 _Too late for that_ , Gordon thinks, but he’s content to continue leaning on John. More than content. Happy, even. And warm. _Finally_.

* * *

 

Virgil snores. Virgil snores _loudly_  (Alan swears his snores shakes the wall between their bedrooms; Gordon wouldn't be surprised). That's how Gordon knows his brothers switched out again before he's even fully aware. He's somewhat annoyed Virgil fell asleep on the job.

Then he realizes he can hear voices and he opens his eyes.

The first thing he sees is John, asleep across the room in a chair, looking like he's about a minute from remembering that gravity is a thing on earth and ending up on the floor. Next to him on the couch that Gordon knows from experience is one of the most uncomfortable couches in the world is an Alan-shaped lump under a blanket, only identifiable by his size and the mess of blond hair sticking out.

The voices he hears are Scott and Brains, talking quietly as Brains writes something down on his tablet.

It only takes a minute for Scott's ‘little brother’ senses to start tingling, because he looks over and meets Gordon's eyes directly, like he'd known what he see. He doesn't quite hide the relief, but Gordon admires the effort. He says something to Brains that Gordon can't quite make out and walks over next to the bed.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “How you feeling?”

Gordon thinks about it. “Crappy.”

Scott actually grins and reaches out a hand to tousle Gordon's hair. “That's fair. You gave us a scare.”

“Sorry,” Gordon says.

Scott rolls his eyes, but before he can say anything, there's a smack to the back of Gordon's head and he realizes belatedly that Virgil’s snores have stopped.

“Shut up,” Virgil mutters. He's clearly barely awake. Gordon doesn't even have time to say anything back when John finally tips out of his chair. His yell and the resulting crash makes Brains jump and Alan sit straight up.

“Good morning,” Gordon mumbles. Virgil snorts.

“S’matter?” Alan asks, pulling the blanket off of his face. He looks like he’s in full-on zombie mode, the way he gets after not sleeping between rescues and then falling asleep in the weirdest places, like leaning against the bookcase, or on one memorable occasion, inside the room that leads to Scott’s ‘bird.

“Gravity,” John grumbles from the floor. “I hate gravity.”

“It hates you, too,” Virgil says.

“I’m aware,” John says. He seems content to stay where he’s at on the floor, possibly so gravity doesn’t try to maim him again. Alan just grunts and lays back down on the couch, pulling the blanket over his head.

Scott shakes his head fondly and looks at Gordon. “Hungry?”

“Who’s cooking?” Gordon asks suspiciously.

“MAX,” Scott smirks. “It’s broth. Can’t be too careful. I’d offer you some birthday cake, but Brains said no.”

Gordon groans. “I hate you.”

He eats the damn broth. It’s warm, at least.


End file.
